In Retrospect, I Think I Chose Poorly

The last twenty-four hours or so have generated some interesting philosophical interactions. I was skipping channels last night and came across Kung Fu Panda. It was the bit where the turtle says to the rat (now there's a sentence you don't see everyday), "There is a saying: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present."

Then today I had a brief conversation with a friend who's going through a rough time. She described it as her "midlife crisis," but that's just a fancy name for the (not so joyous) experience of reevaluating our choices that most of us do from time to time. 

And then tonight Sib2 came over and somehow the subject of the Rickshaw Run came up. I won't say much about it here -- yet -- but do go to www.rickshawrun.com if you're at all intrigued. (And if it's the kind of thing that you read about and think, I totally want to do that, let me know. I'm thinking the August version, and while I think I've got the people to fill a single rickshaw, I'd love to do the run as part of a larger group.) 

The end result of all of this is that I've yet again been reminded that I made some really crappy choices over the last 48 years. The world gets all in your face about security and retirement and marriage and mortgages and giant TVs and all that crap, and I collected it all, and have either already lost it or, by virtue of acquiring terminal cancer at a relatively young age, rendered it useless. In college, one of my roommates and I used to talk about sailing around the world. I'd trade every dollar in my retirement accounts for having actually given it a shot -- or even just seen more of the world by train or car or motorcycle or rickshaw. 

Which leads back to my ongoing problem of how to balance my desire to accomplish some of those things with the time I've got left against the debilitating effects of the chemotherapy that's, presumably, keeping me alive. Earlier this week I was thinking it might make sense to pull the plug on the chemo, buy an open ticket, and just hit the road for the remaining time I've got. But now I need to last until at least August so I can make the Rickshaw Run. And who knows what I'll find after that. 

I wish I'd spent the last twenty years doing some of those things already. It would make it a little bit easier to make choices about what to do with the time I've got left.